On the Morning After
by Allison'sGirlfriend
Summary: Post-Ep for "On the Day Before" that's CJ/Toby.


On the Morning After

Her blazer is on the floor with her pants. He had unbuttoned the shirt, but he left it on, liking the view of her silk clad breasts partially obscured. He trails his fingers along the outer, laced edge of her crimson panties. They are darker than the dress, he thinks, though he can't be sure. He had fantasized earlier, much earlier now, about how slowly he would take her out of it when he watched her zipping it up before opening the door to her office. He had planned this then. Or, he had hoped. They didn't plan this thing, they couldn't. Not only because of their odd hours and the bizarre demands of their jobs, but because planning meant forethought, meant this was something more than the occasional thing that it really was.

She shivers slightly as he takes the curve towards her inner thigh. He looks up into hooded eyes, equally heavy with melancholy and arousal. It's been a long night. His hands leave her lace and move to the silkier skin. He relishes the heat of her. His nails graze along until he reaches her knee, he shifts then to the other knee and tracks the progress back. She relaxes back to rest on her arms at the same time her leg muscle twitches, tenses. Her eyes have closed, for the moment, and he stares at this woman who has had him ensnared for the better part of both their lives. He is as precise in his thoughts as the words he puts to paper and for him, he thinks, that means not length of time, but depth and breadth of worth. He is a better person for knowing her, and while he would disagree with the sentiment he knows she feels the same.

He leans closer and places a soft, chaste kiss just below her navel. He smirks at the clench of her stomach muscles. He is taking his time tonight, this morning. His hand makes the same trek down one leg and back up the other. And again. After the third circuit, he kisses the top of the red panties. He hears her sigh and feels a knot tighten somewhere deep inside himself. Two more return trips down and up her legs and he moves forward to kiss the side of her neck. He takes longer with this kiss. The President had never heard of Erev Yom Kippur before today. It's one of the many things he's gotten out of the habit of doing. Asking forgiveness of people on the day before, not something he was ever very skilled at accomplishing.

He moves from her neck to her mouth and her tongue is hot against the roof of his mouth and she tastes like coffee and the peppermint candy she had in the car on the way home. Her arms move around his shoulders, her fingers playing with what little hair he has left. He pushes the shirt out of the way, taking one breast in his hand. He is gentle and teasing until he rolls the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Breaking the kiss he sits back and looks in her eyes, the arousal has banished the sadness. He takes her arms out of the sleeves of the shirt and tosses it behind him. He moves back to remove his tie and belt and shirt after gesturing at her breasts. She smiles as she removes the bra herself.

He gazes at her breasts and hides the smile at the flush that appears on her cheeks and chest. He takes first one and then the other breast in his mouth, nipping each peak with his teeth before placing a kiss on her forehead. He stands to reach the pillows on the other side of the bed and pushes her forward before placing them behind her. She leans back and closes her eyes as he tucks his fingers under the waistband and pulls the panties off. He spreads her legs and then positions himself between her bent knees. He moves his hands from her knees, along her inner thighs until he is teasing the edges of her heat. He uses two fingers to spread the wet warmth along her folds and over her clitoris. He hears the inhale of her breath. He could use his mouth, she likes that, but he wants to see her, so he uses two fingers of one hand to slowly circle her clit. It isn't until he has two fingers from the other hand inside her that he speaks for the first time since they entered the apartment.

"You did good, with the thing. Tonight. It was good."

"I didn't. But I know that natrium and sodium are the same thing now."

"I meant the other thing. With the smack down."

His fingers continue to circle slowly, lightly. He wants to prolong this. The fingers pushing inside her are gentle and measured as well.

"I pulled her pass. You did good with the elbow."

"You heard about that?"

"Yeah."

He increases the pressure on her clit and pushes a third finger inside her. He is rewarded with a quick intake of breath and an almost hum. He bends the fingers inside upward and speeds the tempo of his movements. He feels her tremble and watches as her head tilts to the side. He never tires of watching her respond. It's like finally being a part of the cool group of kids in high school, his ability to do this to her, this amazing woman that every man in the White House, including the President, has had a crush on at one time or another. And he's the one who gets to do this. Who gets to see this.

She's shuddering now and the small mewling sound comes more frequently as he moves both hands faster and faster. Small tremors are attacking the fingers inside and the ones above her clit are slick. Her head moves to the other side and then back again. Her knees shake with the effort of keeping them apart. He continues, knowing she is close, knowing what comes next.

Her hands grip the sheets as the orgasm slams into her. She arches up and pants a few times as the waves crash over her. He does not stop his movements, but his eyes never leave her face. And then the tide is ebbing and her back meets the mattress once more as the whisper escapes her lips.

"Toby."

He stills his hands and leans towards her, kisses the valley between her breasts and then he kisses her mouth. Her hands begin to caress his chest as he positions himself at her entrance. Her legs move farther apart and she pulls him closer. His eyes close as he enters her fully. He waits a moment before pulling back and thrusting forward once more. He continues to build momentum and she counters with her hips. He's not as young as he once was, so it isn't long before he's lost the rhythm completely. He slams into her and shudders his release. She takes his weight and nips his ear until he takes his own weight on one arm, snaking the other between them to bring her to climax. She is silent this time, so it is he who whispers as she comes.

"CJ."

Lying next to her, with her legs entangled with his and her hair against his cheek he thinks about Erev Yom Kippur. And how it is an important thing. But he thinks, maybe showing people, showing her, something of what he feels is just as important as asking for forgiveness. This thing they have, which really isn't a thing, except that it is and they both know it, sustains him. It keeps him balanced and focused and all other manner of ridiculous self-help nonsense that he knows his deputy would recommend. But, that doesn't make it any less right or any less true. And if two brothers and countless others are dead, and their own party are taking pot shots and running for the hills, and this incredible woman has to fight to get back three years of respect over one misspoken word, then maybe it's okay for him to do this. Maybe on the morning after he should do this.

"CJ?"

"Hmm… ."

"You are, you know, a bit of a clotheshorse. At times."

He expects the punch in his ribs. But it's the kiss on his shoulder that lets him know she understands. And maybe that's her way of saying the same thing.

The End


End file.
